Sully (Henchmen MC: Next Generation #13)

Chapter Seventeen

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Bonnie

All my muscles ached the next morning. None more than my inner thighs that I swear never stopped shaking in and around the shower with Sully.

He definitely proved me wrong, that was for sure.

I mean, I’d read books where the hero ‘fucked her unconscious,’ and I always thought it was a gross exaggeration and pure fantasy on the part of the author. Apparently… not so much.

I barely remembered getting dressed before I fell into bed and crashed hard. Being joined by Zima had been the most pleasant surprise.

Until I woke the next morning to find Sully asleep in the chair in the corner of the room.

“Sully?” I called, voice soft.

But he woke with a start, blinking at the dark room for a moment before glancing over at me.

“Hey, honey,” he said, giving me a sleepy smile that melted my heart.

“Why are you asleep in the chair?”

“Ask your guard dog there,” he said, nodding at Zima, who was doing an impressively long stretch.

“Big stretch,” I said, petting her behind the ear. “She didn’t growl at you, did she?”

“No, she let me know with her eyes what she thought of me,” Sully said. And I swear Zima did shoot him a strangely knowing glance.

But when he climbed off the chair and made his way to the bed, she didn’t grumble. Not even when he got in bed with us. Though the belly rub he gave her couldn’t have hurt. “What time is it?” I asked. “What day is it?”

A chuckle moved through Sully as he glanced at the clock. “Four. I’m assuming at night, not morning.”

“We’re giving her a very bad schedule,” I said, petting Zima’s neck.

“Hey, dogs sleep like fourteen hours a day, don’t they? We’re just encouraging her beauty rest.”

“True. But we should take her out and get her some dinner.”

“And get us some dinner,” Sully said, patting his flat stomach. “We missed lunch. What are you feeling? Chinese? Italian? Indian? Sushi?”

“Tacos.”

“The best choice,” he declared, hopping up off the bed. “Wanna go outside, Zima?” he asked, but she was off the bed the second he said the ‘o’ word. “Meet me out there,” he said, slipping into his shoes, then heading out.

I reached down, rubbing my sore legs for a second before I forced myself to get up, find pants, socks, and shoes, then make my way out into the common area.

“She treed a squirrel,” Sully said, standing in the doorway, watching Zima sniff around the trunk.

“Oh, the poor thing. Zima!” I called, grabbing one of the bags that had been delivered while Sully and I had been… indisposed. Finding a toy, I squeaked it until she came running. “See? Isn’t that better than a squi—oh,” I said, wincing as she tore at the little stuffed bunny until she had a hole in it and started to pull out the fluff.

“Well, gonna need to up that toy budget,” Sully said as Zima found the squeaker, then started zooming around the room with it. “So, tacos?”

“Tacos,” I agreed.

“Wanna take a ride?”

“Are we allowed?” I asked.

“Gotta ask someone to head out with us, but yeah. It’s a quick trip. Should be fine.”

He rounded up some guy named Valen that I hadn’t met before, then we were climbing into the SUV to head halfway across town to the taco place that Sully claimed would ‘change my life.’

They might be life-changing.

But the place didn’t even have a website , let alone online ordering. So no matter how good they were, unless Sully was going to be the one procuring them, I would have to be going without.

“I like this one,” the woman behind the counter said as we waited for our food, Sully’s arm casually draped around my shoulders.

“I like her too,” Sully agreed, making my belly swoop.

“And she actually ordered the veggie tacos, so that makes her even better. No one orders those.”

“How do you know it wasn’t me?” Sully asked.

“Because I raised five sons,” the woman said, giving Sully a motherly smile. “I don’t think they’ve ever willingly eaten a vegetable in their lives, lettuce aside. Your extra steak is on top,” she said, passing him three bags. “You,” she said to me. “Make him try one of the veggie ones. If there’s anyone who can, it’s a girl with all that pretty.”

“I will,” I told her as we headed out.

“Now you have to eat some veggies,” I told Sully. “I promised that lady.”

“Well, maybe I can—“ he started, but my phone beeped, interrupting him.

“Sorry,” I said, reaching for it, figuring it was some email or something because no one ever actually texted me.

Except, of course, my boss.

“Everything alright?” Sully asked when my brows pinched as I read the text.

“Ah, Court just texted and asked if I could drop by real quick.”

Sully shot Valen a glance, getting a shrug in response.

“Sure,” Sully said, holding the door open for me.

“It’ll be quick,” I assured him, even though I didn’t really know.

Before I could even text her back, another was coming through.

Bon?

I shot her back a text saying I was on my way.

It actually felt strange to be going back to work, a place that had been my home away from home since the moment I started working there.

The sun was starting to set by the time we made it there, and the light in the lot was still out. I had to mention that to Courtney, see if she could have someone out to fix it. It wasn’t safe.

I was out of the SUV first, Sully taking a moment to put the taco bags on the floor well as I made my way inside the building, the little chirp of the door chime making a smile pull at my lips.

“Bonnie?” Courtney asked, coming out from the back room.

It was the look of confusion on her face that had my stomach bottoming out.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “I mean, not that I don’t love seeing you, but—“

Bon.

The text had called me Bon . Courtney never called me that.

“You texted me.”

“What? No. I actually lost my phone somehow yesterday. Wait, someone texted you from it? Can you ask them where—Bonnie?” she asked as I turned and ran toward the door.

Anxiety could only be considered a superpower in extreme situations. When we needed our minds to race, to wrap themselves around a situation; when we had to force our bodies to spring into action, they were already surging with adrenaline.

“Bonnie, what—”

“Stay inside,” I cut off Courtney as my hand slammed into the door.

Sully was halfway to the door, shooting me a big smile. Until he saw the look on my face.

“What’s—”

“Get inside!” I screamed.

But it was too late.

It was too late.

The bang had my belly tightening.

I’d been around guns a lot growing up. My father used to get drunk and shoot beer bottles in the backyard, a habit that made it impossible for me to play on or around my swings.

I used to slide under my bed, terrified the bullets might cut through the thin walls of our ancient mobile home and wedge themselves into me, and read my books with a little flashlight, trying to ignore the booms.

So, yeah, I knew the sound of a gun firing when I heard one. Hell, I sometimes still heard them in my nightmares.

“Get down!” I pleaded even as Sully dropped to a knee.

But not to get down.

To remove something from his ankle.

I hadn’t even seen him strap on a holster, let alone slip a gun inside of it, but there it was.

But then it was in his hand.

“Get inside, Bonnie,” he demanded, starting to stand.

The SUV roared to life again.

But it was drowned out by another bang.

And another.

And, finally, one that had Sully’s body jolting, then falling to the ground.

But not before I saw the blood blooming through his light yellow Hawaiian shirt.

“No!” I screamed.

Normally, my instinct would have been to run, to seek cover, to hide until the trouble passed.

I was not, by anyone’s definition of the word, brave.

Except, in the past, the man I was beginning to think I was falling for wasn’t lying on the ground, bleeding.

Tires squealed, and I was vaguely aware of blackness in my periphery.

It wasn’t until I was on the ground leaning over Sully, my hands pressing into his shoulder, that I realized the blackness was actually the SUV pulling up beside us, blocking us, guarding us.

“Get inside,” Sully said, breathing heavy, his handsome face twisted in pain.

“No. No, you’re shot.”

“Just a little bee sting.”

“It’s bleeding a lot for a bee sting,” I said, sniffling, willing the stupid, pointless tears to stay in my eyes.

“Bonnie, help me get him in the car,” Valen said.

Looking up, I saw he’d thrown open the door after climbing through the car.

“Cars aren’t bulletproof,” I objected.

“This one damn near is,” Valen told me, hopping out.

“I can get up,” Sully said when Valen tried to reach for him, jostling his shoulder. “Get Bonnie in first.”

“No, I—“ I started, trying to keep putting pressure on Sully’s shoulder.

But Valen was grabbing me, yanking me up and off my feet, then all but shoving me into the backseat. “Get on the floor,” he demanded, turning toward Sully.

“Baby, get down,” Sully said, already on his feet. “Please.”

The pained ‘please’ was what did it.

I got down on the floor well as Sully slipped into the backseat, moving flat on the seat.

Valen crawled back across the front seat, his phone pinned to his ear as he barked out a quick explanation of what happened.

“Wait! Courtney!” I said, panic gripping my chest again.

“Okay. I’ll go in and stay with her,” Valen offered. “Until reinforcements get here. Bonnie, climb up here and drive back to the clubhouse.”

“What? No. I need to—“

“Baby, focus for me,” Sully said. “You got this. You can do it.”

“Okay. Alright,” I said, panting for breath. My vision was a little swimmy, but if I just… took a few deep breaths, I could do it. I could drive the SUV back to the clubhouse.

With my bleeding… sort of boyfriend in the backseat.

I climbed up from the floor well as Valen drove closer to the doors.

Through them, I could see Courtney ducked down behind the front desk, eyes wide.

I fumbled for my phone as Valen climbed over the seats again, heading toward the passenger side door.

I could see when the phone inside the shop rang, making Courtney jump.

But her hand flew up, reaching blindly for it.

“Courtney, let this guy in,” I said as soon as I saw her put the receiver to her ear. “He can keep you safe.”

“What the fuck is going on, Bonnie?” Courtney asked, her voice tight, but she was crawling from behind the desk to unlock the door.

“I will explain… later, okay? I have to get Sully to the doctor,” I added, adjusting the seat so I could reach the pedal. As soon as I could, I threw the car into reverse and actually peeled out of the lot.

I’d always been a cautious driver.

Fine.

An overly cautious one.

Someone who triple-checked before they pulled out into traffic.

I braked on yellow.

I counted to five at stop signs.

But the tires literally squealed as I flew out of the lot. A car laid on its horn, but I was too busy trying to concentrate on breathing so my vision didn’t go all hazy with my panic as I drove.

It was just all of two minutes away.

It was going to be okay.

“You’re really fucking hot right now,” Sully said, leaning between the seats.

“What are you doing? Sit back! You’re bleeding.”

“That’s it,” he said, and I could hear the smile on his face. “Boss me around, baby. I might be into that.”

“Stop,” I said, but a strange, hysterical little laugh escaped me. “Put pressure on your wound,” I demanded.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, leaning backward.

“How are we going to get in the gates?” I asked, flying through a yellow light.

“They’ll be waiting,” he assured me. “Just drive right into the garage. It’s almost over.”

Almost over?

He was shot.

“Shouldn’t we be going to the hospital?” I asked.

“It’s not that bad.”

“But it still needs to be treated.”

“Remember how we didn’t call the cops with that little bomb situation?” he asked.

That little bomb situation .

I would have laughed if I weren’t so worried.

“Yeah.”

“Well, we don’t do hospitals unless we’re dying. They have to report it,” he explained as I rolled right through the stop sign at the corner leading to the clubhouse.

Sully was right.

I could see several of the men already waiting, automatic guns strapped to their chests. The gate was wide open, and I whipped right through it, only hitting the brake when I was rounding the garage.

More bikers were ready and waiting inside the garage.

I barely put the SUV in park before the doors were flying open and men were pulling Sully out.

“Wait. Wait,” Sully snarled. “Bonnie…” he tried as the men pushed him toward the interior door.

“We got her,” one of the men said.

We were safe.

He was going to get taken care of.

It was okay.

The adrenaline that had been eaten up with purpose just moments before kept surging through my body. Without an outlet, my body started to shake. My palms grew sweaty even as a chill moved through me.

My heartbeat punched against my ribcage. A hand closed around my throat, around my chest, tightening with each passing second, making it hard to breathe.

My door pulled open, but I couldn’t even force myself to turn to see who was there.

Until, suddenly, a paw swiped at me, catching my focus.

Sure enough, there was Zima, making little whimpering sounds. Like she knew I was struggling, like she was upset about it too.

“Hey, baby, hey,” I cooed at her, reaching a shaky hand out.

“Thought that might work better than me trying to talk you down,” the giant known as Perish said, standing back a few feet, hands tucked in his pockets, looking almost humorously helpless for a man his size. “I’m not good with the… soft shit,” he admitted.

“No?” I asked, forcing myself to climb out of the SUV on my wobbly legs. “I saw you dancing with Zima,” I told him.

Sully and I had been heading out, and I’d wanted to check on Zima one last time. But I found her in the prospect room in the arms of Perish, who was swaying around and singing to her.

“Dogs are different,” he said with a shrug.

And even if our reasons for saying so were different, I couldn’t help but agree with him.

“I get that,” I said, sitting down right there on the garage floor, letting Zima climb in my lap and lick my face.

“He’s gonna be fine,” Perish said. “Sully,” he clarified. “He’s gonna be fine.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Got shot myself recently,” he said, shrugging. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, but you’re… an island,” I said.

“It was a through-and-through to his shoulder. They just gotta clean him up. Make sure he doesn’t get an infection. No biggie. You need something? A blanket?”

“Blanket?” I repeated, focusing on breathing deeply through my nose and the soft feel of Zima’s hair.

“You’re shaking.”

“It’s just the anxiety. It’ll pass.”

He gave me a nod. He clearly didn’t understand, but I appreciated that he wasn’t the sort to ask a bunch of questions.

“Did you tear up the grass?”

“What?” I asked, sure I misheard him.

“When you drove in. Did you tear up the grass?”

“Oh, um, I don’t know,” I admitted.

Who cared about the grass?

To that, he shrugged. “I guess I can fix it.”

“It’s kind of dead anyway,” I said, the strange turn in conversation helping more of the anxiety slide away.

“Dormant, not dead,” Perish said.

I was opening my mouth to say something when the door on the side of the garage flew open.

Then there was Fallon striding in with purpose.

Until he saw me on the floor.

“You okay? You get hit?” he asked, making a beeline for me.

“I’m okay,” I said. “Just… anxious,” I clarified.

“Alright. You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay. Then, can you come inside? Sull’s gonna be asking about you. Can’t be telling him I left your ass on the cold garage floor.”

He offered me a hand, and I let him pull me to my feet. “Sure you’re not hurt?”

“No, I’m okay,” I said, sounding a lot more steady as we moved in through the garage door next to the bar in the common area.

I expected them to have taken Sully to the bathroom or something to treat him.

But he was right there on the couch in the living room, his shirt off, two men standing over him.

I barely even noticed the basin full of bloody water, the bloodstained gauze.

All I could focus on was Sully.

“Hey, baby,” he called, spotting me. “Where are the tacos?” he asked as we drew closer.

And his characteristic calm seemed to break the dams that had been holding back the tears since the parking lot.

“Hey, none of that,” he said, reaching out with his good arm and pulling me until I climbed up on the couch with him, pressing my face into his chest, smelling that peaches and vanilla scent of him that I loved so much. Only now, it was heavily overwhelmed with the metallic scent of his blood.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be as pretty as ever in just a few weeks,” he told me, his hand gliding up and down my back.

“Don’t joke,” I said, sniffling hard, trying to pull it together. I didn’t want to be crying. First, because this wasn’t about me . He was shot. I should be the one comforting him. Second, because, well, I didn’t want to be all weepy in front of his club brothers. “You were shot.”

“And you ran to try to save me,” he said, arm squeezing me. “That was some brave shit, baby girl.”

“Is Valen okay?” I asked, not wanting to talk about me and my one moment of bravery in my whole life.

“Yeah, I talked to him on my way here,” Fallon said. “Aside from getting chewed out by your boss for scaring the dog that was there. We’re gonna have her moved here once the dog gets picked up.”

“You got people there?” Sully asked.

“Yeah, we’re working on it.”

“How’s your shoulder?” I asked. “Perish said it was a through-and-through,” I added. I couldn’t bring myself to look. My stomach roiled at just the idea of looking.

“Just a baby hole,” Sully said. “Like a piercing, really,” he added, dragging a snort out of me.

“Be serious.”

“That’s not really in my wheelhouse,” he countered.

“How is his shoulder really?” I asked, looking at the two men who were treating him: Callow and Dezi.

“Once got a bigger hole in me when a screwdriver went into me.”

“What?” I asked, horrified. “Were you doing a project?”

“If by ‘project’ you mean starting shit with a street gang, then yeah,” Fallon piped in.

“See?” Dezi asked, yanking up his shirt. “Healed up real nice.”

It was a gnarly, puckered pink scar.

But I guess he was alive.

“And his stupid ass only cleaned it with some vodka and slapped a bandage on it,” Fallon explained. “Sully is at least getting actual care.”

“Incoming with the boss lady,” Perish called through the front door.

It was less than a minute before Courtney was led inside with Valen and Voss as escorts.

“Girl, what the hell is going on?” Courtney asked when she zeroed in on me.

“Why don’t you talk to Courtney in my room while we finish up here?” Sully suggested, giving me a little squeeze.

“What can I tell her?” I whispered.

“Go with your instincts,” Fallon answered.

I figured it wasn’t the time to remind him that my instincts often couldn’t tell the difference between being chased by a bloodthirsty beast and having to make a phone call.

“Okay,” I agreed. “You’re sure you’re okay?” I asked, looking at Sully.

“Just kind of pissed our tacos are cold,” he said, giving my wrist a squeeze.

“Call me if you need me,” I demanded before climbing off of his lap and asking Courtney to go into Sully’s room with me.

To talk to her, sure.

But I also got the feeling that the bikers needed to talk as well.